


Start Low, End High

by druscilla



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Bipolar Disorder, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Moment in time, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-09
Updated: 2015-11-09
Packaged: 2018-04-30 19:49:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5177507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/druscilla/pseuds/druscilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A painful day at a photo shoot leads to a gentle recovery in Patrick's bunk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Start Low, End High

The photographers were _not_ helping. Every time they pulled Pete’s hair in front of his eyes or told him not to smile, Patrick wanted to hit something.

“Look sad.”

Patrick could feel Pete’s breath straining in his lungs. He had spent the entire night before crying into Patrick’s neck. He looked miserable as shit. What did they want from him?

“I need a break,” Patrick said suddenly.

The photographer glared at him. “We’re almost done.”

Patrick glared back. “Yeah, well, I need a break.” He could be rude. No one would believe it if they heard it. The only thing that mattered was that Pete didn’t lose it in the middle of a room of people. It didn’t matter anyway because he was already leaving the room, Pete following after him like a puppy.

“I’m fine, ‘Trick,” Pete mumbled, but they both knew he was lying.

“'Be sad, Pete.’” Patrick mimicked in an angry voice, crossing his arms as he stomped through the hallway, the older boy on his heels. “'Its not emo enough. Can’t you look like you want to die?’” He was so wound up, he jumped when Pete put a hand on his shoulder.

The brown eyes were wet. “I just want to finish so we can go back.” He was pleading and Patrick felt guilt punch him in the stomach.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized immediately, bringing his hands up to cup Pete’s face, kiss him softly on the mouth while no one was around.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Pete whispered. “Let’s just go back now.”

Patrick nodded and took a deep breath, setting his shoulders and leading Pete back to the room they had left. Everyone stared when they came in and Patrick tried to look like he didn’t want the ground to swallow him whole. Normally he would have hidden behind Pete but this time the older boy was hiding behind him so he just stuck his chin out and sucked it up.

It took about twenty minutes to finish the shots and then they were finally allowed to climb in the SUV and head back to the venue and the bus. Pete didn’t say anything, but he held one of Patrick’s hands in both of his and stared out the window, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. Patrick tried not to worry watching him. It didn’t work.

“Nap,” Pete whispered in Patrick’s ear when they got back and everyone was sliding out of the vehicle. The younger boy nodded and followed him to the bus, unlocking it. Pete wasn’t allowed to have keys to the bus. He was too fond of locking people out when he got in one of his moods.

But today he just quietly walked up the steps and sank onto the couch, looking up at Patrick expectantly. The younger boy sat down next to him and Pete immediately laid his head over Patrick’s thighs, squeezing his eyes shut and pulling a harsh breath in through his teeth. He hurt, Patrick could tell, by the way his shoulders were hiked up and the weird too straight angle of his legs. Pete had tried to explain the way it felt to him once, like hooks pulling at him until the seams started to split.

He brought his fingers up to massage gently at Pete’s shoulder while the other hand stroked his hair. “I’m sorry it’s not a good day, baby,” he murmured. “Are you going to try to sleep?”

“No. Jus’ wanna stay with you.” He reached back to grab the hand rubbing at his shoulders and pulled it to his lips, kissing the knuckles and holding it here. “Sing ‘Follow You’?”

Patrick racked his brain for the opening words. He always forgot the opening words when Pete asked him for a specific song. Of course. It didn’t help that he hated singing that song to him. He thought he might have felt some of the hooks pulling at the seams Pete talk about when he did. His voice shook softly as he started, gradually becoming a little more sure and warm.

_“Love of mine, someday you will die …”_

He could feel Pete relax as he sing, like he was giving Patrick all of his anxieties and pain. It was okay. He could take it. The song ended and Pete sat up, looking at the younger boy with concern in his eyes. Patrick was shaking.

“What is it?”

He thought about not saying it. In fact, he didn’t want to say it, but it burst out of him like a bullet from a gun. “I don’t want you to die.”

Pete leaned in, pressing their foreheads together. “Not for a long time.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” Pete kissed him, soft, but Patrick pushed into it and then they were tangled on the couch, mouths dancing and legs tangled while their hips rocked together and Pete cried out. He reached for the waistband of Patrick’s jeans, but the younger boy pushed him off and made him go to the back lounge so they could lock the door.

It blurred together, all of it. Pete’s darkness and Patrick’s worry and both of their desperation and two very different types of concern. Pete’s fingers dug into Patrick’s back, clinging to him as the other boy pressed in, moans ringing out like bells. Patrick never made a lot of noise, but his hair fell in his eyes as he bit his bottom lip, heavy lidded eyes staring into Pete as he slammed into him particularly hard.

Pete yelled out Patrick’s name and arched his back. “Like that. More.”

Hands on his hips, Patrick pulled the other boy closer to him, burying his face in Pete’s neck and inhaling him as he thrust in, hard enough to earn that deep moan each time. Pete’s hands moved to his hair, tangling there. He felt the familiar swooping his stomach and his breath hitched in his throat. Patrick slipped a hand around his cock and one, two three pumps and he was coming with a loud cry and a litany of swear words, finally bubbling into quiet tired moans.

Patrick held him close and shook as he came, biting Pete’s neck to muffle his whimpers. He pulled out and rolled over, wrapping his arms around Pete when he laid his head on Patrick’s chest. There were both covered in sweat and come and there was virtually no chance of showering before the show. But Pete was smiling, soft, as his eyes closed and that was good enough for Patrick.


End file.
